


Tiempo de Matar

by chess_ka



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: M/M, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-25
Updated: 2011-11-25
Packaged: 2017-10-26 12:58:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chess_ka/pseuds/chess_ka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin was rather taken with Diego. When MJN return to Albacete, it turns out Diego was rather taken with him too. I basically wanted to write smut, and I ship Martin/Diego like there's no tomorrow. Hence, this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tiempo de Matar

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd. Also possibly terrible Spanish. This is basically just smut, because plot is for the weak.
> 
> I apologise for all of these things.

Finally, Carolyn's tirade about “inept, useless fools” died off, and she slammed her way out of the flight deck. Apparently her ability to accept bad news had been strained to breaking point by the destruction of a BMW and a suitably furious airfield manager, and Douglas, Martin and Arthur had been subjected to a ten-minute long rant once they had gotten airborne. Arthur had wandered off after her, seemingly to find some other way to boil water on an aeroplane.

“I should have known it was too good to be true,” Martin sighed. The damage to Señor Quintanilla's BMW had inevitably pushed them over their twelve grand budget. “I have no idea how I'm going to pay her. I'll have to live in the van.” The uncharacteristic light-hearted, confident version of Martin had vanished, leaving the much more usual miserable and hopeless version in its place.

“Well, there must have been something good about this trip,” Douglas remarked. He was just as irritated about what had happened, especially as it meant he had lowered himself to _washing the car_ for absolutely no reason, but he felt better now he was not faced with the unnerving sight of a cheerful Martin. “You and Arthur seemed to enjoy yourself, at any rate.”

“Yes,” Martin sighed. “I suppose so.”

“And there was _Diego_.” Douglas made sure his voice was laden with as much suggestiveness as he could muster. Which was a lot. Martin just blinked.

“Diego? Well, he fixed Gerti after a fashion, I suppose, but-”

“Oh, _Martin_. Honestly. You seemed to get on rather well with him.”

Martin stared at him, a frown line between his eyebrows. “We-ell, I suppose singing stupid songs and driving a baggage truck across the desert lets people bond quite quickly. Like comrades-in-arms.”

“Hm. He seemed quite taken with you, I thought.”

The effect was immediate. Martin's ears went scarlet, and he nearly lost his grip on Gerti's yoke. “W-what?” he spluttered.

“You don't deny that he was an attractive Spaniard with very good hair?”

“W-well, no, but – why did _you_ notice?”

“I may be straight, Martin, but I am a man of the world. I'm not so insecure about my masculinity that I can't notice when another chap is attractive.”

Martin just stared, seemingly at a loss for words. The blush was rising along his cheeks now, clashing horribly with his hair. Douglas smirked, enjoying the captain's obvious discomfort.

“Anyway, he was rather taken with you. It seems that, despite being an attractive Spaniard with good hair, he has a thing for short, skinny gingers. Or so I imagine by the very obvious way he was staring at your arse.”

Martin appeared to have lost the ability to form words, but he made a heroic effort. “He- I – But, I... Douglas, I- _what_?” he finally managed to bluster.

“And I'm sure he didn't need to lean _quite_ so close to you to give the warning light a thump.”

Martin's spluttering went on for a good five minutes after that.  
_______

Douglas occasionally teased Martin about Diego in the following few weeks, until other things came up with which he could embarrass the captain. In fact, it wasn't until over a year after their adventure en-route to Jo'burg that he was reminded.

“All right, underlings, listen up,” Carolyn barked, straightening out a sheet of paper in her hand. “Here's your rota. On the twelfth we are flying out to New York with a lot of hideously expensive photography equipment. On the seventeenth we're taking a charity group out to Ghana, and on the twenty-second we're flying parts for some farm machinery to Albacete.”

“Ooh,” said Douglas, his eyes lighting up. “Albacete, did you say?”

“I did indeed. And this time we will be flying there in an honest-to-goodness aeroplane, not driving on a baggage truck.”

“Aw,” murmured Arthur, looking genuinely disappointed. “But that was fun, wasn't it Skip?”

“Mm,” Martin agreed, not really paying attention to Arthur.

“Martin certainly _did_ have fun,” Douglas leered. “I wonder if _Diego_ is still the chief engineer? Maybe we should orchestrate a mechanical fault so-”

“Shut up, Douglas.”

“Ooh, no need to be so touchy, sir. I was just trying to help.” At Martin's scowl, Douglas' shark-like grin broadened.

__________

“Douglas, will you give it a _rest!_ ”

“Not until you admit you rather fancied him,” Douglas responded. He had been trying to make every single comment since take-off a lewd double entendre, and succeeding magnificently.

“All right, fine! I did, a bit. Because no self-respecting gay man _wouldn't_ have fancied him a bit.”

“ _You_ are not self-respecting.”

Martin snorted. “Will you give it a rest now?”

“Absolutely not. You're not going to do anything about it, but that doesn't mean I can't mock you heartily all trip.” He looked practically gleeful at the prospect. Martin groaned.

“What are you being mocked about, Skip?” asked Arthur, appearing with two coffee mugs.

“Noth-”

“About the fact that he fancies that engineer chap you picked up on the baggage cart last year,” Douglas interrupted.

“Oh!” Arthur exclaimed, beaming at Martin. “He was really nice, wasn't he?And very good at singing. And animal noises.”

This last comment made Douglas choke on his coffee, and then double over laughing. Martin went scarlet. Arthur simply looked puzzled.

“Well, he was!” he said. “He could do cockerels and monkeys and horses and dogs-”

Douglas was wheezing with laughter now, with actual tears rolling down his face. Martin looked close to combustion, but managed to say in a would-be dignified tone, “Ignore him, Arthur.”

Douglas barely stopped laughing all the way to Spain.

_________

Martin would not admit as much to Douglas, but he was rather looking forward to seeing Diego, if only because he hadn't made a _horrendous_ first impression (an inability to tell a dodgy warning light from an actual mechanical failure notwithstanding), which was something of a novelty. Besides, Diego really was _very_ handsome. He hoped they'd be in Albacete long enough to actually see the engineer.

As it turned out, there was a problem with the machinery they had been delivering, and Carolyn marched off to the manager's office to deal with it, her face like thunder. Douglas and Arthur disappeared to find some lunch, and Martin was left to deal with the airfield paperwork. He filled this in as fast as possible, scrawled his signature along the bottom, and then headed out to track down Douglas and Arthur.

“Are you lost?” A heavily accented voice asked from nearby, as he stopped and frowned around for a moment. He spun around, and found himself face-to-face with Diego, whose face was smudged with oil, the sleeves of his overalls rolled up. He was possibly even more handsome than Martin remembered him being. He was smiling quizzically, and Martin's stomach jolted.

“A bit,” he admitted. “I was looking for the, er, the canteen.”

“Ah,” Diego smiled more broadly. “I show you, if you like?”

“I- I don't mean to-”

“It is no problem.”

They simply looked at each other for a moment, until Martin smiled rather awkwardly. “That would be great. Thanks.”

They walked across the airfield, and Martin cast around for something to say. Diego got there first. “No more problems with little orange warning light, eh?” he asked, eyes sparkling.

“Oh. No.” Martin felt his face heat, and knew he would be blushing scarlet. He wished he could control it. “You, ah, you remember that then?”

“Driving across the desert in baggage truck, singing silly songs with handsome captain? It is not a day I forget easily.” The compliment toppled from Diego's mouth without a care in the world, but Martin simply gaped at him for a moment.

“I- I suppose not,” he said weakly. “But I- I mean, I'm not-”

“Not handsome?” Diego said, coming to a stop and cocking his head at Martin. “You no believe me when I say this, Martin?”

 _Oh, crumpets_ , thought Martin wildly. _He even remembers my name_. “Well, I-”

“Because you are. I notice this when you knocked on my cabin door last year.”

Martin floundered briefly, before settling on. “I, er. Well. Thank you. And... well, you are, too. Handsome, I mean. Very.” There was a pause, during which Martin wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole, but then Diego stepped a little closer, reached out and touched the back of Martin's hand lightly.

“Perhaps,” he said, looking a little uncertain for the first time, “You have lunch with me, instead. Your plane will not be flying for a little while now, I do not think.”

It did not occur to Martin to refuse.  
___________________

Diego's office was very nice. Possibly because it had to be comfortable if he was to sleep there during a siesta. There was a large desk covered in papers, a couple of pot plants, a shelf of books and magazines, a single sink, and a large bed that clearly folded back into a sofa. Martin's stomach was tying itself in knots, whether more from nerves or gleeful anticipation he wasn't certain.

He wasn't entirely sure what he should do, but Diego took that out of his hands very quickly. He had washed the oil and dirt from his hands and face whilst Martin stood awkwardly looking around, but now he came right up to Martin and cupped his face in broad, calloused hands. Martin stared at him, licked his lips nervously. Then, Diego kissed him.

It was a gentle kiss at first, deepening gradually as Martin dared to graze his tongue along Diego's lower lip, and the other man opened his mouth willingly. Feeling more confident, Martin wrapped one arm around Diego's waist, and tangled the other hand in his thick dark hair. Diego slid one hand down Martin's back to rest almost possessively between his shoulder blades.

Finally they broke away, and Martin couldn't help but beam at Diego, who grinned back, stroking a thumb across Martin's lower lip. “ _Guapo_ ,” he said firmly. “Handsome.” He moved in for another kiss, this one more urgent, more demanding. Martin felt the other man's hands on his shirt buttons, and scrabbled to yank his tie loose. He was very glad that he wasn't wearing his jacket. As Diego pushed Martin's shirt from his shoulders, Martin began to wrest with the zip of Diego's overalls. This was rather hindered by the hands on his bare torso, stroking every inch and rubbing hard over his nipples. He groaned appreciatively into the kiss.

He managed to yank the top of Diego's overalls down so they hung around his waist, and they broke the kiss long enough for Diego to yank his T-shirt over his head. He tugged Martin over to the bed, pushed him down onto it, then straddled his thighs and kissed him again. Martin went willingly, running his hands over Diego's well-defined muscles, enjoying the feel of his scattered chest hair. Diego began to kiss and bite at his throat, and Martin tilted his head back to allow him better access.

“Christ, don't leave bite marks,” he managed to gasp as Diego nipped hard at his neck. Diego growled.

“Only where they are not seen,” he said, moving his mouth to the juncture of Martin's neck and shoulder.

“F-fair enough,” Martin gasped. He found he couldn't care over much, and instead pulled Diego fully on top of him, shifting so he could wrap his legs around the other man's waist. Martin was not usually the type to fall into bed with someone at a moment's notice – even if he had the chance to – but somehow this was different. He was enjoying himself thoroughly.

With Diego now lying on top of him, Martin could feel just how much the other man was enjoying himself as well. He ran his hands down the length of Diego's spine before daring to rest them on his still overall-clad arse. He felt Diego grin against his neck, and tightened his grip.

Then, without warning, Diego had rolled off him onto his back, yanking Martin over with him, so that Martin was now on top. He tugged deftly at Martin's belt, unbuckling it swiftly, then pushed his hands down the back of Martin's trousers.

“ _Muy bueno_. Is better than it looks. ,” Diego grinned up at him. Martin had no response, so he settled with beginning to press kisses across Diego's jaw, down his neck, to his shoulders. He shimmied down Diego's body, sucking kisses across his chest before daringly swiping his tongue across one nipple. Diego's groaned appreciatively at that, moving his hands from Martin's arse to his hair, tugging encouragingly at the curls. Martin moved lower still, nuzzling at the flat stomach and enjoying the ripple of muscles. He kissed to the edge of Diego's waistband, then sat up between the other man's legs. Diego raised an eyebrow at him.

“Shoes,” Martin explained.

“Ah,” Diego grinned. “We should do something about this.”

“Agreed.”

Martin shifted off Diego's legs and began to tug on his own shoes. He seemed to be only making the laces tighter rather than looser, and eventually gave up, heeling them off without consideration, yanking his socks off in the process. Diego's boots hit the floor moments later, and Martin was pulled onto the bed properly, lying on his side with Diego pressed against him. They looked at each other for a moment.

“This is good, yes?” Diego asked, sounding a little concerned.

“Of course,” Martin said. “Does it seem like I'm worried?”

“Ah, no, but I hear stories about the English. They are, ah, _tímido_.”

“I'll show you _tímido_ ,” Martin muttered, and kissed Diego soundly.

It was only a matter of minutes then until the rest of their clothing was removed, with varying degrees of struggle, until they were finally naked. Martin felt suddenly shy, aware of his scrawny body and awkward limbs, especially when compared with the tanned, chiselled, muscular Diego. Diego, however, ran his eyes appreciatively over Martin, and pulled him in close, one hand on the back of his head and the other resting rather possessively on his hip. Martin wound his arms around Diego's neck and kissed him. He shifted position, so that their erections pressed together, and stifled a groan, which was answered by Diego.

Martin slid one hand down between them and, feeling a little nervous, wrapped his fingers around Diego's cock. He was already leaking slightly, so he ran his thumb over the head, gathering the moisture that was collecting there, and used it to slick the length. Diego stopped kissing him as he stroked, burying his face in Martin's neck instead. It took a moment for Martin to find a pace that fit, but soon he settled on a rhythm that had Diego pushing his hips into Martin's fist and groaning out his name, along with a litany of Spanish that Martin did not understand (with the exception of “sí!” which seemed to feature prominently). When Martin let go, he gasped in protest which Martin stifled with a fierce kiss, pushing Diego fully over onto his back.

He began to kiss his way down Diego's body, pausing to give a few moments' attention to each nipple, which seemed to be sensitive areas. He bit down gently on each hipbone, and began to kiss and lick at the soft inside of Diego's thighs, which were trembling slightly. He licked firmly along the crease of thigh and groin, and then breathed in deeply, enjoying the heady, masculine smell of sex. Diego rested one hand on Martin's head.

“Martin,” he groaned. “ _Por favor_ , Martin _. Más_ ” Martin glanced up, and saw Diego watching him, eyes dark with lust. He could scarcely believe that he was here, doing this.

Slowly, not taking his eyes from Diego's, he bent his head again and licked a long stripe along the bottom of Diego's cock, before swallowing the head. Diego gasped and dropped his head back at this, and Martin closed his eyes, sucking lightly and swirling his tongue over the tip. This was good. Martin loved giving head, he really did, and he was _good_ at it. He didn't get much chance to prove it, but Martin was very, _very_ talented with his mouth, and he was determined to give Diego a good time.

He pulled away for a moment, swiped his tongue over the head once more, then nuzzled his way further down the shaft to lick and suck at the heavy balls, already beginning to draw up slightly. Then, cupping them in one hand, he gripped Diego's solid cock and swallowed as much of him down as he could. He sucked in earnest, drawing the shaft in and out of his mouth, tonguing the hot flesh as much as he could, and all the while Diego was moaning softly, muttering to himself, his hands in Martin's hair.

“Martin, _esperar_ -” Diego gasped, tugging at Martin's curls. “Wait, I-”

Martin thought about staying where he was, about sucking Diego through his orgasm, but the small part of his mind that was always fixated on doing things correctly reminded him of all the risks he would be taking doing so, never mind the idiocy of giving a man a blowjob without protection. So he pulled away, pressing open-mouthed kissed up Diego's stomach and chest, and was then pulled instantly into a fierce kiss, Diego's tongue plundering his mouth. He wrapped his hand firmly around Diego's cock, now beautifully slick with saliva and pre-come, and began to stroke him, hard and fast. Diego practically arched off the bed, moaning brokenly, and Martin drank him in. His dark hair was sticking to his damp forehead, his eyes were closed, his lean, muscled form taut and trembling, and all because of Martin. He ducked his head, watched the flushed, hard cock sliding in his fist, his pale fingers a sharp contrast. He tightened his grip, quickened his pace, and then Diego was crushing their mouths together and choking on Martin's name as he came, spilling between them.

Martin continued to stroke Diego gently through his orgasm until his cock softened, and then tucked in beside him, kissing his jaw contentedly. He hadn't really been thinking about his own arousal, but now he was desperately aware of his aching erection. Diego was gasping for breath, eyes closed, but he wrapped his arms around Martin and held onto him tightly. After a few moments he pulled back.

“That was very, ah, nice,” he rumbled, nuzzling at Martin's hair. “You are very good, and also very handsome.” He tilted Martin's chin up and kissed him, more gently this time. “And now, I think, is your turn.”

Martin did not protest as Diego tipped him onto his back and crawled between his legs. He kissed Martin for a few moments, deep and slow and wonderful, and then took hold of Martin's cock in a broad, sure hand, stroking a few times. Martin groaned, jolts of pleasure skittering along his spine, and he knew he was too close to the edge. He was going to come far too soon.

Diego kept up stroking him for a while, his grip firm enough not to be teasing, but not strong enough to tip him into orgasm, and soon Martin felt himself begin to settle into the pace. Pleasure was thrumming through him, but soon he was no longer in imminent danger of finishing. He had no idea how long they stayed like that, Diego's hand moving in an easy rhythm, but it could have been hours. It was absolutely perfect.

Eventually, Diego began to trail kisses along Martin's jaw, and then shifted down his body, manoeuvring Martin's legs further apart so he could settle between them. He nosed at Martin's straining erection, and smirked up at him.

“Oh, God,” was all Martin could find to say, his throat tight with anticipation. Then, with deliberate slowness, Diego licked across the head of his cock. “God!” gasped Martin again. “Diego!”

Diego hummed absently. _“Bueno_ , yes?”

“Yes,” Martin forced out. “Yes, v-very good. _Bueno_. Oh God.”

Diego grinned wickedly, and then promptly swallowed Martin down in one movement. Martin cried out, hands scrabbling to grip at the sheets as Diego began to suck and swallow around him. The pleasure was so intense he could hardly stand it: heat and wetness and suction and God the groans of pleasure coming from Diego. A warm hand cupped his balls, rolled them in its palm, and then two fingers strayed back and rubbed against his perineum. He gave a sobbing gasp at this, a further jolt of pleasure making his legs shake and he knew he was babbling absolute nonsense.

“Diego, oh my God, Diego, yes yes _yes_ , like that, oh God, so good-”

Diego pulled away, and Martin was about to protest at the sudden change in proceedings when he felt Diego's hand move further back, and a fingertip gently circled his entrance, as though asking permission. Diego looked at him questioningly.

“Is all right?” he asked.

Martin stared for a moment. A large part of his brain was occupied with shouting, _“Yes, yes, yes, anything, yes”_ , and he smiled tentatively. It may have been a long while for him, but he could well remember how much he had loved the sensation of being penetrated. He nodded, and Diego beamed.

“Do you have-”

“Yes,” Diego said quickly. “I have... how do you say, ah, _lubricación_. Nothing else, I am sorry.”

“No matter,” said Martin hurriedly. “I don't think I'd last for... that, anyway.” This was true. Between the blowjob and the expectation, he suspected he'd go off instantly if Diego tried to take him. Diego nodded and moved back up to kiss him, reaching to rummage under the bed. He pulled out a bottle of lube, and pulled away to squirt some over the fingers of his right hand. He gave Martin a small smile.

“Do not think I do this with all pilots who land here,” he said. “This is, ah, _para mí_. Myself.” Martin hadn't even considered why Diego seemed to have a stash of lube. He watched, his heart in his throat, his whole body thrumming in anticipation. His brain seemed to have practically shut down, capable only of _yes yes yes_!

Diego lay half over him, kissing him deep and slow, and slid his hand between Martin's legs. Martin spread his knees, tilting his hips to give Diego better access, and didn't bother to stifle a groan of pleasure as Diego began to stroke around his entrance, teasing the ring of muscle.

It was slow going; it had been a long while for Martin, but Diego was patient, working him open slowly with just one finger at first, waiting for his body to ease before proceeding. When he pulled out and then pushed back in with two fingers, Martin cried out, and when Diego looked alarmed, gasped, “Don't you dare stop,” seizing Diego's thick dark hair to drag him in for a kiss. Diego pulled his fingers nearly all the way out, and then pushed firmly in again, stroking inside Martin's body, scissoring them to stretch him further, and he groaned desperately. “More,” he gasped out. “More, Diego, please.” Then Diego's fingers found _that_ spot inside him and he saw stars, crying out wordlessly and bucking his hips up. Now Diego began to fuck him in earnest, fingers working in and out, each time making sure to strike his prostate until Martin was senseless with pleasure, unable to do anything but beg for more. When Diego pushed a third finger into him he almost sobbed with senseless desire, and felt the tell-tale sign of heat pooling in his groin, tightening his stomach.

“Diego,” he gasped out against the other man's mouth. “I'm close, I'm going to, I'm-”

“ _Sí,_ ” Diego whispered fiercely. “ _Sí,_ Martin, _sí._ Now, come now.” And he wrapped his other hand back around Martin's cock, and with three long, firm pulls Martin came, hard, and his brain went offline.

Diego had collapsed next to him, one arm and one leg slung over Martin's. He had his head tucked into the juncture of Martin's neck and shoulder, and Martin leant his cheek on Diego's hair until his breathing returned to normal. Diego was tracing patterns on his stomach and hips, and they lay in sleepy, sated quiet for several minutes.

“This,” Diego said eventually. “Was very good day.”

“Agreed,” said Martin, running his fingers through Diego's dark hair.

“I wanted to kiss you when I meet you first,” Diego continued, his voice low and rumbling against Martin's skin. “I like how your hair is orange, and you have freckles. I always like freckles, but few Spanish men have them.”

“Glad I could oblige,” Martin said sleepily. “I've never known anyone like freckly gingers before. Or if they have, they've not been gorgeous Spaniards.”

Diego huffed out a laugh. “They will wonder where you are,” he said after a moment.

Martin groaned. “Yes, they will. I'll probably have my ears boxed for holding them up.” Reluctantly, the two men disentangled themselves. Martin cleaned up a little at the small sink, and began to pull on his clothes. This was slightly hindered by the fact that Diego kept kissing him, still not fully dressed himself.

“Stop it,” Martin exclaimed eventually, giggling a little. He restarted his tie for the third time. “I'm never going to get this done up properly at this rate.”

Diego grinned at him. “Ah, no,” he said, touching Martin's neck lightly, just above his collar. “I leave mark.”

Martin groaned. “You're joking!”

“I am not.”

“Oh god, Douglas is going to make so much fun of me.”

“Douglas?” repeated Diego. “The old pilot? Why will he make fun?”

A small part of Martin's mind laughed at Diego calling Douglas 'old'. “It's just what he does, at any opportunity. Me having sex will definitely be an opportunity.”

Diego made a thoughtful humming noise. “Maybe I should tell this Douglas that you are very-” he paused, kissing Martin playfully. “Very-” another kiss. “Very good at sex.”

Martin felt himself blush scarlet, his face hot, but he couldn't help smiling. “Thanks for the offer, but it's okay,” he said instead, finally managing to tie his tie properly. “I'd better go.”

“All right,” said Diego agreeably. “This was, ah, fun. _Gracias_.”

Martin kissed him once, quickly. “Thank you,” he said happily.

He shut the door behind him and was about to head off across the airfield to where Gerti was waiting at her stand, when a strong hand gripped his upper arm and pulled him around. Diego pressed him up against the office and kissed him fiercely, tongue in his mouth, biting at his lower lip. Martin groaned and kissed back just as deeply. “This is a better goodbye,” Diego commented, before being pulled into another kiss.

They didn't break apart until a throat cleared itself very loudly behind them. Diego looked around, and Martin opened his eyes, arms still wrapped firmly around Diego. Standing behind them were Douglas, Carolyn, and Arthur. Douglas, who owned the cleared throat, was smirking. Carolyn had one eyebrow raised, her expression otherwise unreadable. Arthur's mouth was hanging wide open. Martin briefly considered being embarrassed and awkward, until a small, determined voice hissed, _'You're the one snogging a handsome man. No need for shame._ ' Instead, he raised his eyebrows and said, in as defiant a tone as he could muster, “ _Yes?”_

“We need to get airborne soon, Captain,” said Douglas, sounding thoroughly amused.

“Precisely,” Carolyn said snappishly. “So if you'd be so kind as to step away from your charming young man, we can actually get on with doing our job.”

Martin rolled his eyes. “I'll be there in a moment,” he said, hoping that they would go away.

“It had better only be a moment, or there will be supremely painful consequences for you, Martin.” Carolyn strode away, seizing the gawping Arthur's arm and dragging him with her.

“I didn't know you had it in you, Captain,” Douglas drawled, turning away. “Well done. Don't be too long, now.” He sauntered away.

Martin watched him go, and then turned back to Diego, who didn't look even slightly perturbed by being caught in a compromising position by the rest of MJN. “Now,” said Martin, twisting one hand into Diego's hair. “About that goodbye...”


End file.
